Every Day Quotes July
by MissJayne
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles about our favourite characters. One quote per day.
1. Jul 1

Every Day Quotes: July

_**Jul 1  
**_Make it a rule of life never to regret and never to look back. Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can't build on it; it's only for wallowing in.  
**Katherine Mansfield (1888 - 1923)**

Jennifer Shepard pulled her old partner's arm to force him into entering the building. It wasn't _that_ scary.

She wanted to go bowling. She wanted company. She knew her protective detail would have a coronary if she suggested something so frivolous in such a public space. And she also knew her protective detail had come to the collective conclusion that a certain Leroy Jethro Gibbs was perfectly capable of protecting her.

Gibbs just stared at all the flashing lights and dug his heels in more. "What, Jen, are you _five_?"

She punched his arm. "Abby bowls with her nuns and you don't complain about that."

"Because she's _Abby_. How am I supposed to protect you in this madhouse?"

She scowled. "I never said you had to protect me; I just said _someone_ had to accompany me and bowl. You agreed to this."

"I can't bowl."

"Everyone can bowl." She was pretty sure she wasn't the one acting like a five year old. "I'll pay, you set everything up."

"Why are we doing this?" he whined.

She glared at him. "Because I want to enjoy myself. Stop spoiling my fun. I happen to know Abby took you bowling last month. So suck it up, Marine, and let's see if you can beat me."

As she left for the counter, she smiled to herself. This was going to be fun.


	2. Jul 2

_**Jul 2  
**_It may stink like me, but that's what makes it so collectible!  
**Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata**, _Animal Crossing: Wild World, 2005_

Tony DiNozzo danced into the squad room filled with joy. What a beautiful day to be alive, especially after what he'd heard on the radio on the drive in.

"McGoo!" he greeted his teammate happily. "Do you know what I know?"

"I am not a font of endless movie trivia," the Probie replied from his desk, completely unexcited.

Tony danced to a stop in front of McGee's desk, throwing his rucksack with skill so it landed on his own chair. "It has nothing to do with a movie, unless there's something you're not telling me."

McGee sighed. "What do you know, Tony?" he asked, resigned to asking the question and probably aware it was easier to get this over and done with.

"I heard a rumor," Tony dropped his voice, "that there's going to be a _Deep Six_ fragrance."

The other man rolled his eyes. "I haven't heard of this."

"So," Tony continued, ignoring his previous statement completely. After all, Timmy had never mentioned he was writing a book in the first place, so he could easily be lying about the fragrance. "Will it be based on you – I'm sorry, Mr. Gemcity?"

"There is no fragrance, so no."

"Oh." A thought struck Tony as he wandered over to his desk. "How about fragrances for all the characters? 'Tommy' should have one – can I consult on the smell? And how about 'Lisa'?"


	3. Jul 3

_**Jul 3  
**_Every human being on this earth is born with a tragedy, and it isn't original sin. He's born with the tragedy that he has to grow up. That he has to leave the nest, the security, and go out to do battle. He has to lose everything that is lovely and fight for a new loveliness of his own making, and it's a tragedy. A lot of people don't have the courage to do it.  
**Helen Hayes (1900 - 1993)**, _in Roy Newquist, Showcase, 1966_

Ziva David was very aware she had not had a normal childhood.

She had grown up learning how to shoot, spy and kill. She had been able to tackle Ari to the floor by the time she was five, although it was in part because he went easy on her. By the time she was ten, she could strip and reassemble just about any gun in under fifteen seconds while blindfolded. And she could run for miles without much effort.

She had won more than her fair share of Sports Days at school.

Although it had proved exceptionally useful in her line of work, sometimes she wished she had been able to grow up at a slower pace, a pace she was more comfortable with. At the time, she had considered this frantic way of life to be normal as she had nothing else to compare it to. She had been independent from a young age. She had been prepared to lose everything.

She had watched her mother die. She had watched her little sister die. She had watched as her friends, one by one, had all died.

If she could go back and relive her childhood, Ziva would choose to take things slower and to take the time to appreciate what she had, rather than rushing off to learn new skills.


	4. Jul 4

_**Jul 4  
**_Hell is full of musical amateurs: music is the brandy of the damned.  
**George Bernard Shaw (1856 - 1950)**, _Man and Superman (1903) act 3_

Ducky risked a grin into his glass as he watched his friend take a sip of his brandy.

Jethro was practically addicted to the stuff. Not an alcoholic, not by a long shot, but it was getting to the stage where he refused to drink anything but his personal brand of rotgut. When he had growled at Jennifer for offering him wine at a small, cozy dinner the three of them had shared a week ago, Ducky knew it was time for action.

And so he had invited Jethro over to his house, supposedly for the purpose of showing him and listening to a new record he had acquired, but also to ply him with brandy and force him to drink it.

Jethro had only put up a token resistance. Completely denying he had any problem at all, he had accepted the glass with only a brief look of revulsion at the liquid. He was sipping it as though it had been poisoned. Ducky had to stifle a laugh. It was not _that_ bad.

If all went well tonight, he would try brandy again next week. And then perhaps he would move onto port. And eventually he would persuade Jethro to start drinking wine again.


	5. Jul 5

_**Jul 5  
**_Criminals do not die by the hands of the law. They die by the hands of other men.  
**George Bernard Shaw (1856 - 1950)**

Abby Scuito did not believe in the death penalty.

When she had first started working at NCIS, she had assumed she would be in a minority of one. But she had since met others working in law enforcement who felt the same way. As one of them had pointed out to her, their job was to uphold the law, not administer justice. They could disagree with a sentence if it was too lenient; why not if it was too harsh?

She believed it was a far worse punishment to have to rot in a tiny cell for the rest of your natural life than it was to be put to death. She knew which sentence would act as a greater deterrent to her, if she ever chose to lead a life of crime (she ignored her hacking as she only did that for her job).

And anyway, she had never understood why the state was allowed to kill people but people were not allowed to kill people. Surely it was the same thing? Surely the state was simply saying 'we can kill people, but it's a completely different thing when you do it'.

She understood that sometimes it was impossible to bring someone in who refused to come quietly. She understood that sometimes it was necessary to shoot and kill an individual to prevent innocent people's untimely demises. And she did not have a problem with that. What she disagreed with was allowing the state to execute people.


	6. Jul 6

_**Jul 6  
**_Diplomacy is the art of letting someone else have your way.  
**American Proverb**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs observed from a dark corner as his boss made her way around a ballroom.

The eyes of most men had lingered on her already this evening. He could understand why; her dress was sinful. Emerald, matching her teasing eyes, and cut in such a manner that it hinted at even greater secrets concealed beneath the fabric. Her red curls tumbled around her shoulders and her scarlet lips were practically an invitation.

At least he had a license to stare at her – she should not have assigned him to her protection detail if she didn't want him looking at her.

She was effortlessly floating around the room, persuading every man to eat out of her head. He knew her plan, knew how skilled she was at the art of diplomacy. Much as it bothered him that she should have remained in the field, he knew she was an excellent diplomat and was able to secure everything her agency wanted and more.

He observed in silence as she continued to flit between powerful men, making them and their wives laugh, never outstaying her welcome and never flirting too much when a wife was around. He could hear her melodious laughter as she came closer, allowing himself a smile when she caught his eye and sent a wide grin his way.

Perhaps this was torture, being so close and being unable to touch, but it was her game and he would allow her to play it. For now.


	7. Jul 7

_**Jul 7  
**_To someone seeking power, the poorest man is the most useful.  
**Sallust (86 BC - 34 BC)**

"Dammit," Timothy McGee muttered under his breath. "I swear I left it on my desk."

He shifted the huge pile of cold cases Tony had dumped on his desk, flicked through a computer magazine in case it had got caught in the pages, and tossed his takeout in the trash can on his hunt. Satisfied it wasn't on his desk, unless it had somehow grown legs and burrowed into PFC Riley's bank records, he began to search his drawers.

Gun and ammo, check. Secret stash of Nutter Butters, check. Multiple spare pens, all collected from the floor after Tony threw them at him, check. Rubber bands to prevent Tony from throwing them at him, check. Ziva's birthday present, check. Dried petals from a rose Abby had given him a few months ago, check. Phone charger, check. Ziva's latest issue of GSM, in Hebrew, after Tony had stolen it from her desk, so he could return it to her at the end of the day, check. Extra chocolate chip –

"What are you doing down there?"

Tim looked up at the sound of Ziva's voice. "Is Tony with you?"

She snorted. "Of course not. He is with his 'baggy bunnies' and they are secretly plotting how to get their revenge."

"I've lost my wallet," Tim told her. "I definitely had it earlier as I had to pay Abby that ten bucks after I lost the bet, but I can't find it now."

She crouched down to his level. "Then I shall help you search for it," she decided.


	8. Jul 8

_**Jul 8  
**_'Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today.' Under the influence of this pestilent morality, I am forever letting tomorrow's work slop backwards into today's, and doing painfully and nervously today what I could do quickly and easily tomorrow.  
**J. A. Spender**

Jimmy Palmer knew it had been a bad idea to write that list.

Doctor Mallard had encouraged him to start writing lists of what he needed to do today and tomorrow, and try to do whatever he could today of tomorrow's list. At first, he had thought this an excellent idea. He had scurried round, become excited whenever he had crossed something off, and found himself working harder than usual.

Now he was just tired. He had checked and restocked the store cupboard, cleaned everything he could possibly clean in Autopsy, topped up the doctor's bag with all the supplies he could possibly want, located the missing gurneys after DiNozzo's new idea for a game, which had involved racing them down the stairs, counted all the body bags, realized two were missing, travelled all over the Navy Yard trying to find them, located them in Abby's lab, tried (and failed) to persuade her to hand them back, and scrubbed the floor of the tiny hallway between the elevator and the Autopsy doors that no one ever seemed to clean.

Perhaps he should have left some of it for tomorrow. As it was, he could barely stand up or keep his eyes open. Only two hours until he could go home, providing no one died in their jurisdiction in that time…


	9. Jul 9

_**Jul 9  
**_Whoso neglects learning in his youth,  
Loses the past and is dead for the future.  
**Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC)**, _Phrixus_

Tony DiNozzo snorted in derision. Like _that_ was ever going to happen.

Across from him, Abby glared, evidently disappointed he did not approve of her plan. "What's wrong with it?" she demanded.

"It's a night class," he laughed. "Only idiots and the Probie go to those things. I'd rather go on a morning run with Gibbs for the next week."

"That can be arranged," she threatened, narrowing her eyes.

He wiped the grin off his face. After all, he was in her lab and she could boil him alive if he wasn't careful. It wasn't like _el jefe_ would yell at the favorite for doing it either.

"I don't need to learn anything new," he told her, his tone apparently more acceptable to her now as she calmed down a little.

"Nonsense," she replied. "You can, and should, learn new things. It's important."

"No it's not," he countered. "I catch bad guys for a living. It's bad enough they send us to silly seminars that are supposed to help us. Why would I voluntarily go to somewhere else to take an evening class, in my own time, which in case you haven't noticed Gibbs isn't too keen to hand out, so I can learn about something unrelated to my job?"

"There are lots of hot, young, available women," Abby offered.

"Count me in!"


	10. Jul 10

_**Jul 10  
**_I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again.  
**Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)**

The apartment was uncharacteristically silent for a Tuesday night. The usual strains of jazz that normally helped Timothy McGee concentrate were no longer floating around the apartment and annoying his neighbors.

His editor had sent the latest _Deep Six_ novel back to him with notes about the things she wanted changed. Although Tim felt slightly miffed at this apparent challenge to his own work, he knew he was only human and capable of mistakes. Like typos. And sometimes his grammar looked worse than his sister's.

He worked slowly and diligently, needing the silence to allow him to focus and work out how to reword a section or add a little more detail in a description. And there were some inconsistencies as well – good on Lydia or whoever she'd got to go over this for spotting he'd previously described Penny Leopard's hair as red, whereas now he'd called it practically blonde in certain lights. If he didn't mention hair dye somewhere, his fans would go crazy.

Staring at one particular passage, he winced at the reading. On the surface, he got the message across. But there were far too many commas and he could do with a cull. Hmm, which ones could he remove without losing the meaning?

One. Two.

No, he needed the second one.

He flipped the proof over and started studying the next one. This was going to take a while.


	11. Jul 11

_**Jul 11  
**_The proof that man is the noblest of all creatures is that no other creature has ever denied it.  
**Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (1742 - 1799)**

Ducky frowned as he looked at poor Sergeant April Sims. Run over by her own car when she tried to stop someone from stealing it. What was the world coming to?

Jethro and his team had scattered about the crime scene. He did not need to look up to predict Anthony would be sketching, Ziva would be taking photographs and young Timothy would be talking to the witnesses. Though he enjoyed the small things staying the same, sometimes he wished Jethro would allow his team to mix the jobs more. It would certainly make their lives more interesting.

The bright sun continued to beat down on the street. Ducky mopped his brow and squinted into the distance to search for Mr. Palmer. How was it possible for his assistant to get lost while fetching the gurney?

"How is it looking, Ducky?" Ziva asked as she crouched by his side. "Any surprises?"

He shook his head. "For once, this appears to be perfectly straightforward. Ah, I do enjoy the simple ones."

"Erm, Boss?" They both turned to observe Timothy running over to Jethro. "One of the witnesses said Sergeant Sims' five year old daughter was in the back of the car when it was driven off?"

Ziva muttered a Hebrew swear word next to him. As Ducky smiled and looked over at her face, he realized she too was squinting in the bright light.

"Hold on," he ordered her as she made to leap up and start following Jethro's every command. "Take this." He whipped his favorite hat from his head and offered it to her.

"Ducky, I could not possibly –" she began.

"I insist, my dear."

She paused for a moment, then accepted it. "Toda."


	12. Jul 12

_Updates may be a little sporadic over the next few days as I have work and computer chaos. Normal service will resume shortly._

_**Jul 12  
**_To be turned from one's course by men's opinions, by blame, and by misrepresentation shows a man unfit to hold an office.  
**Quintus Fabius Maximus (275 BC - 203 BC)**, _from Plutarch, Lives_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was used to his team trying to rebel against him. They almost considered it essential to every case. But what was most important to him was that they fell straight back into line with very little effort on his part.

He had seen far too many 'teams' where anarchy appeared to reign. In those teams, the agents constantly questioned their leader's decisions, paralyzing an investigation while someone figured out who was in charge.

Not in his team. His agents knew they could question him all they liked, but he would stand firm. If he changed his mind because of something they told him, that was perfectly fine and dandy, but he only did it if he agreed with the change, not because they were harassing him. His job was to lead and their job was to follow, and the two paths should never cross.

Unless Rule 38 was in effect, but that was completely different.

While he watched some teams become frozen by infighting and people scrabbling to be the one in charge, he wondered how they ever solved cases. Boundaries existed for a reason, and no matter what some pomped-up, wishy-washy (usually) female interloper from some company designed to tell you how to be more friendly and inclusive to everyone while they had never been in a similar profession to that they were preaching to said, they needed to be upheld or his team would never get any work done.

Perhaps he was in the wrong, but he felt a leader should not be considered one if they simply couldn't lead.


	13. Jul 13

_**Jul 13  
**_I had learnt to seek intensity… more of life, a concentrated sense of life.  
**Nina Berberova**, _O Magazine, September 2003_

Ziva David smirked at her partner's fear. How had he never done this before?

Last week, in front of his latest bimbo, who came from HR according to Abby, Tony had boasted that he had once jumped out of an airplane. After batting away her suggestion that the plane had been on the ground at the time, he had continued to inform Mandy of how brave he was. Despite her urge to tell Mandy of all the times she had made him squeal like a little girl, Ziva had come up with a much better plan.

And then made sure Mandy was around when she set it in action.

Hence Tony had been asked if he wished to go bungee jumping, given how brave and fearless he was. In front of his girlfriend, he could hardly refuse. Oh, how she wished Mandy was here now to see him standing on top of the bridge and shaking with terror.

"How safe is this?" he demanded, taking very slow and shaky steps to her side, while she looked over the bridge and tried to determine how long they would be falling for.

"I have done this before and did not require as much of this," she tugged it and scowled, "safety equipment."

He shuddered at the thought.

"Oh, it is perfectly safe," she informed him. "I only know of two people who have died doing this."

"Know of or actually knew?" he checked. "There's a bit of a difference."

"Mikhail and Ben," she recalled, smiling softly.

"O-_kay_."

She hid another smile as he looked over the edge of the bridge. At least he did not know she had asked her friend to film this.


	14. Jul 14

_**Jul 14  
**_Study the past if you would define the future.  
**Confucius (551 BC - 479 BC)**

Jennifer Shepard frowned as she picked up the next case file. It was a time the rest of the sane world was asleep, but she had far too many files to examine before tomorrow and she was finally on the last few.

Her study had become her office away from work. Papers covered every surface and she honestly thought if a bomb exploded, it might look more organized. At least she knew where everything was, even if her ordering system made no sense to others. The only sound, other than her breathing and the rustle of paper, came from the grandfather clock in the hall.

How had _this_ file ended up in her collection? Briefly, she scanned the three other files that were supposedly waiting for her signature, but found them to be the same. They were some of Jethro's old case files, back from when she had been his partner. She recognized her handwriting on some of the pages, and his extremely short and terse explanations of what had happened.

A smile grew on her face. While this might have been a mix-up of files, it was taking her back to the days when she regularly wore a gun and faithfully followed Gibbs everywhere. She leant back in her chair, laughing at how these reports could have been written yesterday; he hadn't changed a bit and probably never would.

A little bedtime reading never hurt anyone.


	15. Jul 15

_**Jul 15  
**_Think of life as a terminal illness, because, if you do, you will live it with joy and passion, as it ought to be lived.  
**Anna Quindlen (1953 - )**, _A Short Guide to a Happy Life, 2000_

Timothy McGee smiled as he pushed open the door. "Hey Faith."

She was curled up in a hospital bed, her pale face almost the same shade as the white sheets. She had somehow lost even more weight than when he'd visited last week, but her spirit remained unbroken and she smiled happily at the sight of him.

"Tim! Hey, how are you? Are those flowers for me? You shouldn't have."

"I was passing the florist," he explained, walking to her side and kissing her hand, before settling in a chair next to her and holding the aforementioned flowers out to her. "And I saw these and thought 'Faith would love them'."

"Well I do," she declared. "Nurse Ratched will give me a vase if you smile sweetly at her on your way out. She's a sucker for your puppy-dog eyes."

"I think the male nurse has a soft spot for you," he teased.

"Which one?"

"The one who spends a little too much time staring at your hands."

"Peter?" she questioned, smiling when he nodded. "He is hot. Got a very nice ass."

He laughed with her. As they calmed down, he leant over and plumped up her pillows.

"So," she demanded. "Tell me all the latest gossip. I heard a rumor Amy's dating Darren. Is it true?"


	16. Jul 16

_**Jul 16  
**_Don't let your sorrow come higher than your knees.  
**Swedish Proverb**

Tony DiNozzo wasn't sure this was anyone's best idea. Even he had attempted to veto it, but apparently telling a ninja she couldn't do something was considered a challenge.

Why Gibbs had had to send them to search a small wood on a patch of land right by the ocean was a complete mystery. Perhaps if he had not signed McGee up to all those porn websites the Probie would have warned him beforehand. But it wasn't until he and Ziva had finished fruitlessly searching the wood that they had realized the whole thing became an island when the tide came in.

Ziva, being Mossad and insane, had decided to wade through this temporary river to the other side, where their nice, warm car sat. He was torn between a fear of drowning or being swept out to sea, and his desire to go home and not wait another five hours for the water to go down enough for it to be relatively safe to cross again.

He winced, catching sight of the water level on Ziva. Somehow she was managed to keep her feet on the ground, but only just. The current was wicked; if she got swept off her feet, there was no telling where they'd find her body.

"It's at your neck!" he yelled, determined to get some sense into her. It was pity he couldn't headslap her at this distance. "It's only going to get deeper. Turn back!"

She ignored him, continuing her kamikaze path. A wave came perilously close to knocking her over, but somehow she kept going.

All the way to the other side.

"Your turn," she bellowed across.


	17. Jul 17

_**Jul 17  
**_A man should never be ashamed to own he has been wrong, which is but saying, that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.  
**Alexander Pope (1688 - 1744)**

"Perhaps… I was wrong."

Jennifer Shepard did not normally admit to being in the wrong, but this was a special occasion. After a fight about a certain Agent Gibbs being apparently unable to stop physically assaulting his co-workers (whacking Tony on the back of the head in front of SecNav could never end well for anyone), she had challenged him to go a week without hitting his Senior Field Agent.

Agent Gibbs had replied that it was impossible because Tony needed to be kept in line.

Director Shepard had argued that was what a Mossad assassin was for.

Agent Gibbs had snorted and pointed out _she_ had ordered _him_ to prevent any blood getting on her precious carpets.

Director Shepard had casually observed that her friend did not need to spill blood to inflict pain or cause death.

Agent Gibbs had retorted that allowing Officer David to keep Agent DiNozzo in line undermined his authority.

Director Shepard noted that his glares had always been particularly effective at keeping other agents in line.

And when Agent Gibbs had started to insist on another point, she had overruled him and threatened to alert HR to his not having taken a polygraph since he'd joined the agency.

How he had managed to go a full week was beyond her, but unless he had conspired to get Tony, Ziva, McGee, Abby _and_ Ducky to lie when she had made discrete inquiries, he had succeeded.

He nodded, smirking at her words. Damn it. Now she owed him a bottle of bourbon.


	18. Jul 18

_**Jul 18  
**_Murphy's Law: "If there are two or more ways to do something, and one of those ways can result in a catastrophe, then someone will do it."  
**Edward A. Murphy Jr**

Tony DiNozzo thought it was silly that he was not allowed in Abby's lab without supervision.

It wasn't like he was a complete idiot, and things didn't go wrong whenever he touched them. He was nowhere near as accident-prone as the Probie or the Autopsy Gremlin. And Abby trusted him – deep down she trusted him. Not just with Bert; she wouldn't mind too much if he poked around her chemical store. She allowed Timmy McGee, and he was a walking disaster zone.

It was all in a good cause. His latest girlfriend, Teresa, worked at a perfume store and he was determined to show her he could produce his own fragrances. His original plan was to enlist Abby's help, but she was at court and likely to be away for the whole day. He would just have to figure this out for himself with a recipe off the Internet.

Chemical number one… top left shelf, hidden behind the hydrochloric acid. Chemical number two… on the right, second shelf from the bottom. He wished her system of organizing made more sense. Shaking his head, he carried his two bottles to her workstation and checked the recipe again. He needed a little bit of chemical one to a lot of chemical two.

Shrugging his shoulders, he poured a little bit of one into the other.

The resulting explosion knocked him off his feet.

As his ears began to ring, he wondered how long he would survive before Abby killed him.


	19. Jul 19

_**Jul 19  
**_Our first and most pressing problem is how to do away with warfare as a method of solving conflicts between national groups within a society who have different views about how the society is to run.  
**Margaret Mead (1901 - 1978)**

Abby Scuito yelped as some of Timmy's fruit mix hit her back.

Oh, he was dead.

She did not normally venture outside the confines of her lab; she had far too much evidence to examine and very little time to do it in. Part of her was sorely tempted to ask the Director for a new assistant, but she couldn't give up that kind of control in her domain.

For once, with a very light workload as it appeared naval personnel and Marines weren't killing each other in increasingly inventive ways, she was able to wander up to the squad room. She discovered that Tony and Ziva had been sent to some kind of sensitivity training, after Ziva had threatened to torture Tony in front of some high ranking politician who had become concerned for the agent's safety. Gibbs had wandered off to have coffee with Fornell.

She had smiled upon discovering Timmy had been left to hold the fort. He was a more capable agent than he realized at times, and his team clearly trusted him. Being on their own in a place usually filled with Gibbs' presence had made them both a little giddy, and the food fight had started.

She threw her own salted peanuts at his head, wishing she had the larger cashews so they would hurt more. Her aim was good; Timmy winced as he was hit.

The fruit mix hit her own head this time, getting tangled in her hair. She stamped her foot in frustration, rising to throw more peanuts.

She hit someone else instead.

"Hey, Gibbs," she greeted him plastering on a sweet smile. "I didn't see you there."


	20. Jul 20

_**Jul 20  
**_I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death.  
**Patrick Henry (1736 - 1799)**, _(Virginia Convention, March 23, 1775)_

The great Leroy Jethro Gibbs winced as the nurse, brunette unfortunately, rubbed another one of his cuts with an alcohol swab.

He was fine. Really he was. If he forgot about having to call DiNozzo to take the suspect off his hands after he'd collapsed on the ground when his knee had buckled.

Major Klein had certainly been surprised when Gibbs had confronted him over the murder. But he had recovered a little too quickly and tried to resist arrest. Going quietly was not an option for the Marine. And so Gibbs had ended up in a knockdown, no holds barred fight.

Gibbs had been prepared to fight to the death; the Major had been prepared to fight for his freedom. Somehow Gibbs had managed to overpower the other man, but not before their actions had destroyed the room and the injuries sustained had been serious enough to land them both in the ER.

Allowing the Major to resist arrest was not an option for Gibbs. He would rather die than have to explain to a family why the person who had killed their loved one was not in custody. He would rather die than look them in the eye and say it was all his fault – if he had just fought a little harder, if he had just got that jab in…

He knew what it was like to feel the justice system had failed a loved one, and he would do whatever it took to make sure it was not his fault someone else had to feel the same.


	21. Jul 21

_**Jul 21  
**_Some prices are just too high, no matter how much you may want the prize. The one thing you can't trade for your heart's desire is your heart.  
**Lois McMaster Bujold**, _"Memory", 1996_

Ziva David had learnt many things since coming to America, but perhaps the most important to her was learning how to love.

She had not realized what she was missing at first. She had loved her father, but only in the sense that a dutiful daughter should love her father. She had never cared much for him beyond that, simply wanting his attention and praise. Her friends had been carefully chosen for their familial obedience to the Mossad, and even the slightest step out of line meant they had to be shunned.

Perhaps the only people she had truly loved were Ari and Tali. While her brother had been absent for large chunks of her childhood, Tali had been the most innocent of all of them. And when she had died, Ziva had shut herself off from the rest of the world, never wishing to feel loss like that again.

It was not until she had come to America that she had realized what she had been missing. Perhaps she had not felt the pain of losing someone since then, but she had been missing out everything good that came out of love. She loved Gibbs as a father, still wishing to please him like she did her true father, but somehow it felt different. She could see how much he cared every single day.

She loved Tony and McGee, in different ways. She loved Abby for simply being Abby and opening her heart to everyone. Some days it was a struggle and she wanted to build her walls back up to the level they had been in Israel, but she persevered. Ultimately, being open to love was worth it.


	22. Jul 22

_**Jul 22  
**_The state is nothing but an instrument of oppression of one class by another-no less so in a democratic republic than in a monarchy.  
**Friedrich Engels (1820 - 1895)**, _preface to Kark Marx, The Civil War in France, 1891_

Timothy McGee smirked as Abby bounced on the tops of her toes, not easy for someone wearing three inch platform boots. But if anyone could do it, it was their Abby.

She had been excited about this for weeks. The Queen of England was paying an official state visit to D.C. and Abby wanted to see a real queen in the flesh. Not that it would quite be in the flesh as she would be driven past them en route to the White House, but the Goth didn't seem too bothered by this mild detail.

He was excited too. Despite having a revolution to throw off the yoke of monarchy, he still wanted to see the woman who would be ruling over them now if history had not intervened. He had seen her on the news and in photographs, but it was not the same thing.

He clutched his little flag to his chest as Abby tried to peer up the road. "Is she here yet?" she wondered, full of child-like enthusiasm.

"Any minute now," he promised her. She had been asking the same question for the last hour, and he had been giving the same answer.

The cars rounded the corner and a huge cheer went up. Tim found himself joining in. The wait had been worth it.


	23. Jul 23

_**Jul 23  
**_Part of understanding the creative urge is understanding that it's primal. Wanting to change the world is not a noble calling, it's a primal calling.  
**Hugh Macleod**, _How To Be Creative: 17. Merit can be bought. Passion can't. , 08-22-04_

Abby Scuito linked arms with the Duckman and headed into the next section of the zoo. The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze that cooled the air perfectly without making it too cold, and she hadn't seen a cloud since yesterday.

Ducky had solemnly informed her yesterday morning that the zoo had new baby lion cubs. After squealing the place down, she had decided it was important to see them as soon as possible, to welcome them into the world. Ducky had very graciously informed her that he planned to go very shortly, and extended an invitation to her. Turning it down had not been an option.

And so they strolled leisurely through the zoo, peering at the giraffes and laughing at the antics of the penguins. They dodged screaming children as they tried to escape from their parent's clutches and join the hyenas (as food, Ducky had suggested in her ear). They had plotted whether they could smuggle out one meerkat or two.

As they reached the lion enclosure, Abby held his arm more tightly. There they were! Cute little bundles of pure fluff. The mother was guarding them closely, determined to protect her babies from whatever the world threw at them. But Abby didn't mind. They were so cute!


	24. Jul 24

_**Jul 24  
**_There's only so much you can do, but if somebody doesn't give you a chance there is nothing you can do.  
**Charlize Theron**, _acceptance speech at Golden Globe Awards, 2004_

Jennifer Shepard would always be grateful to her old partner for showing her the ropes of the agency she now ran.

He was an excellent teacher, even if he sometimes baulked at the challenge of training a new agent. She knew he hadn't been happy about ending up with a female on his team, although she supposed it helped that she had been a redhead and prepared to put up with his BS. She had kept him on his toes from the get-go, otherwise he would have probably found a way to hand her over to Balboa.

His advice was always useful; his Rules were a guide for everything. She had combined his expertise with her own, her diplomacy skills with his knack of getting the job done, whatever it took. They had been perfectly matched in a sense – good cop and bad cop, even if the good cop had been more than a little corrupted by the bad cop.

Even now, when she was supposed to be her boss and he was supposed to obey her orders, she was grateful that he had helped her at the beginning and he continued to do so very quietly in the present day. He made sure she didn't overwork herself. He teased her to keep her sane. He brought her takeout when she was working late.

He had given her the chance to reach for the stars, and she would never forget it.


	25. Jul 25

_**Jul 25  
**_A mother understands what a child does not say.  
**Jewish Proverb**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had always been aware of how close the bond between mother and child was. But it had been different seeing it in the flesh between his wife and his daughter.

For a while, he had wondered if Shannon was psychic. When Kelly was too small to say anything, Shannon had seemed to know instinctively whenever her baby was too hot or too cold, or needed milk or some fresh air, or wanted to sleep or a diaper change. She had known exactly how many lullabies it would take for Kelly to fall asleep and not wake up when she went from Mommy's shoulder to her crib.

He had loved watching them interact in that way. But at the same time, it had bothered him on some level. He would never have such a close bond with his daughter; he could not understand how Shannon did it. Part of him felt like a failure for being unable to anticipate his child's needs.

Shannon, the amazing woman that she was, had soothed him and told him it all came down to practice. She had reminded him that their baby preferred to fall asleep and stop crying when Daddy was holding her, and he could make Kelly smile by pulling funny faces, but whenever she tried, Kelly seemed unaffected. She had made sure he was included in everything, refusing to pack him off to sit in front of the television while she raised their daughter.

Even now, when they had long since passed, he smiled when he thought of the bond between his two girls.


	26. Jul 26

_**Jul 26  
**_When in doubt, do without.  
**Hofni Samuel**

"What _are_ you doing?"

Ziva David stared in abject confusion as her partner gleefully patted all the cushions.

"Picking the best one," he told her, missing off the 'of course' which was present in his tone.

"Do you need a new cushion?" she inquired, slowly making her way over to his side and glancing round the store out of habit to make sure no one was about to kill her.

"Yes," he answered, not stopping his actions for a moment. "Oh, feel that one. Lovely and soft."

She obediently patted it, surprised it was actually quite soft. "Why? Did one of yours get a hole? Or did you finally throw one out the window at that woman who screeches outside your window in the evenings?"

He glared at her. "That's Betty and she's serenading me. Not that anyone's ever serenaded you. My cushions are fine."

Ziva decided not to tell him about Samuel, who had played his guitar outside her bedroom window until her father had attempted to snipe him for daring to disturb his sleep. She had gone on to date him, much to her father's disgust. "Then why are you buying a new cushion?"

"Because I want one?" He sounded as though the answer was perfectly obvious.

"But you do not need one," she argued. "In fact, you could do with getting rid of a few. You have far too many and the red one that sits at the end of your couch stinks."

"McGoo split a Caf-Pow! over it two summers ago."

"Then why do you still have it?"

"Because _el jefe_ gave it to me for Christmas one year in the Secret Santa, and I don't want to think what he'd do if I got rid of it."

"I think he would understand about the Caf-Pow!"

"I can't tell him about it when I'm dead."

"You still do not need this cushion, even if you disposed of the red one."

"It's soft and fluffy, it's my money – I'm having it."

She glared at him as he walked towards the counter. He didn't need the cushion in the first place! She sighed. He would never understand.


	27. Jul 27

_**Jul 27  
**_Civility sometimes requires polite ruthlessness. Establish that what you prize most is civility.  
**Jimmy Bise Jr.**, _Us and Them: A Blog Conversation Survival Guide, SXSW 2006_

Tobias Fornell wondered if he and Gibbs would ever be able to have a civil conversation without the squad room emptying in fear. It wasn't as though they were yelling at each other.

Yet.

Gibbs had directly interfered in an FBI investigation. While the higher-ups screamed for blood, Tobias had come to the Navy Yard to see if they could agree to a joint investigation and therefore keep their bosses off their backs. Quite why people couldn't agree to get along once in a while for the greater good was beyond his pay grade.

For some strange reason, whenever he stormed off the elevator yelling Gibbs' name, people started to disappear from the squad room. The elevator had filled up rapidly after he had stepped off it. Agents had mysteriously disappeared in the direction of the conference rooms and Interrogation. Even Gibbs' team had slunk off to Abby's lab.

He would never understand it. He and Gibbs were occasionally able to have a normal conversation, without resorting to shouting and death threats.

"You can have the crime scene," Gibbs offered magnanimously. "We've got two witnesses and we're keeping them. We'll do the interviews here – Officer David seems to scare them into co-operating."

Tobias nodded, agreeing with the points. "I'll get the paperwork sent over to get you up to date. Anything you need to know now?"


	28. Jul 28

_**Jul 28**_

Every man who observes vigilantly, and resolves steadfastly, grows unconsciously into genius.

**Edward Bulwer-Lytton (1803 - 1873)**

Timothy McGee sat in the small coffee shop, his eyes never leaving his target. Gibbs was at the other end of his eyepiece, somewhere outside if he was needed.

Their target was Petty Officer Nelkon, supposedly leaking secrets to a journalist off base if the rumors were true. He certainly seemed to be the only one with the access to the information and who was leaving the base a day or so before the new secrets were published.

And so, while Tony and Ziva were tasked with interviewing everyone on base who had access to the necessary information, all five hundred and forty nine of them, he and Gibbs were tailing their suspect. Despite the extremely long hours he was pulling at the moment to make sure Nelkon didn't leave their sight, Tim felt glad he was doing this job. It was important.

And anything was better than having to interview five hundred and forty nine people, which would take months unless he and Gibbs could gather enough information to arrest Nelkon before then.

He observed as his target lifted his coffee to his lips for a sip, his eyes darting around the shop and settling on a man sitting in a dark corner. Tim allowed himself a sip of his own drink. Perhaps something was about to happen.


	29. Jul 29

_**Jul 29  
**_Stranger in a strange country.  
**Sophocles (496 BC - 406 BC)**, _Oedipus at Colonus_

Tony DiNozzo almost wilted as the heat hit him. It was zero three hundred and one of the cabin crew had opened the door to allow them off the plane. If it was this hot at this hour, what one earth would it be like in the daytime?

Beside him, Ziva stirred and woke up in less than two seconds flat. He envied her ability to do that, especially when she fell asleep in the squad room late at night and always appeared completely innocent whenever Gibbs walked in and found everyone napping.

It had been her idea for this trip. She had wanted to visit a few friends in Israel without visiting her family, and he had wanted to see her homeland. With the excuse she was accompanying her partner on a vacation, she did not need to spend time with her family and so they had ended up on a plane together.

He wished she had told him how hot it was going to be. Now he thought about it, she had, but he had been too busy scoffing at the thought to take her seriously. Still, there was the possibility of a lot of hot women in bikinis.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her as she undid her seatbelt and slithered past him, somehow without touching him, to retrieve her bag from overhead.

"Perfectly," she answered. "Did you get the stewardess' number?"


	30. Jul 30

_**Jul 30  
**_Where is there dignity unless there is honesty?  
**Cicero (106 BC - 43 BC)**

Ducky had to admit this had not perhaps been his greatest plan.

After Anthony had managed to dig a deeper hole for himself by denying it had been him who had 'borrowed' Jennifer's Blackberry and sent 'I am having hot monkey loving with Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and want his silver-haired babies' to every contact in her phone, including SecNav and several highly important politicians, he had suggested a day of pure honesty in Autopsy. The rules were simple. No lie, however small, was permitted.

In half a day, he had learned: the reason two of his body bags were missing was because Abigail had stolen them to put some corpses in, whenever she could get her hands on some, so she could be hooked up to the emergency power in case of a power cut; Jethro was responsible for his missing chocolate stash after he had comforted Jennifer with it; Ziva had caused the dent in his refrigeration unit after thinking she heard something move and reflexively throwing a knife at it; and Timothy had been the one who had accidently broken his favorite pen.

And now Mr. Palmer had admitted the reason he had taken ninety minutes for his lunch break was because he and Michelle Lee had been occupying a closet in Finance together.

Perhaps the little lies were immoral, but they certainly made the world run more smoothly.


	31. Jul 31

_**Jul 31  
**_Life is a struggle, but not a warfare.  
**John Burroughs (1837 - 1921)**

"It's mine!"

"I saw it first!"

"It was on _my _desk."

"You have plenty and you weren't using it."

"It's my favorite pen and I use it every day."

"Get another favorite."

"Let go!"

Tony DiNozzo continued to wrestle the Probie for the pen. He didn't understand why McGoo was being so defensive – it was just a pen! Far better to hand it over quickly and solve the problem.

He needed a pen. All of his had either grown legs and walked away, been absorbed into Ziva's collection after he threw them at her, or run out. Ziva would kill him if he so much as breathed on her desk without her express permission. And taking a pen from Gibbs' desk was suicide. Anyway, the Probie had plenty of pens and could certainly spare him a few. He'd be doing him a favor, reliving him of some.

"Hand it over!" he demanded.

"Go get one from the stationary cupboard."

"It's too far and Molly threatened to remove my hand the next time she sees me."

"You shouldn't have tried to grab her ass."

"She was wiggling directly in front of me."

"So?"

"I saw it first."

"I'll tell Ziva."

"Snitch… oh, hey Boss."


End file.
